He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. So it would always be between herself and Manning. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. “If you attempted such a thing it would be in order that I should smack you hard with the palm of my hand upon the cheek. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. This I have sworn to do—this I will do. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out.
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